


put on your cape; I need you

by agentsimmons



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Barbara Gordon is Oracle, Canon-Typical Violence, Getting Together, Jason Todd Has Feelings, Jason Todd is Bad at Feelings, Jason Todd is Red Hood, M/M, Not Canon Compliant, Oblivious, Protective Big Brother Dick Grayson, Protective Jason Todd, Swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-07 21:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20982890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentsimmons/pseuds/agentsimmons
Summary: "You know," Barbara says as she picks through her carton of Chinese take-out, "I always assumed that Kon was your personal Superman."Tim Drake is having a Lois Lane kind of month and Jason seems to think he's Superman.





	1. I wanna put myself out there

"If you so much as harm a single hair on his pretty head," Jason growls, pistols aimed at the two men threatening to rough up the defiant, young CEO they've taken hostage, along with the rest of the employees that had been present at what should have been another run-of-the-mill Wayne Enterprise meeting.

Tim blinks with just as much surprise as the two hired thugs. Bats don't come out in the day. Not in Gotham anyhow. Batman has bent the rule a bit when working with the League, but that's usually elsewhere. So Jason can imagine Tim is wondering just what the fuck Red Hood is doing outside of Crime Alley, at 2 p.m. to be more specific.

If he's being honest, Jason is pretty fucking confused too. When he'd woken up and seen the news of a hostage situation in progress at Wayne Tower, he'd initially shrugged it off as another attempt on Bruce Wayne's life. Then he'd remembered Bruce isn't currently in Gotham and the news report had reminded him quickly after that _Tim _is the acting CEO now – has been for well over a year.

He doesn't have time to rehash the thoughts that had led to his decision to check in on the situation, which had mostly been a bunch of haphazard justifications at best: that little Timmy would be stupid enough to fight back instead of playing up any dumb, flirty, playboy schtick B would in this situation or that he owes Tim this much for the whole trying-to-kill-him-thing.

And he knew it wasn’t likely any of the other Bats would show up so here he is, whatever the fucking reason – _just be grateful I'm here at all, Timbo. _

"In case you missed the point," Jason ignores Tim's disbelief, and his own, in favor of following through with the rescue mission, "_hands off_." 

One of the goons lets go, smart, but the other tightens his hold on Tim's expensive collar and his surprise shifts to incredulity. "Why? You want him for yourself? I thought the Red Hood understood the plight of the folks who can't get ahead because of rich assholes like these people."

"These rich assholes," Tim interjects, biting out the words like a feisty damsel refusing to acknowledge any kind of distress, "were in the middle of discussing a proposal to cut overhead salaries, _again_, so that we can give a quarterly raise to our employees."

"But the boss said—" The smarter of the two starts, and Jason immediately gets what's going on here enough to interrupt.

"What he needed to in order to get a couple of radicalized amateurs to put a stop to something that might cut into his own profit." The two men look at each other and then Jason. "If I had to guess, your boss makes a pretty penny off of lesser-paid WE employees. If you get out of here alive, give him a message for me: the Red Hood will be doing some digging."

Both men show just how inexperienced they really are at the threat. The second guy lets go of Tim and their eyes dart around the room for a means of escape.

"You're not really going to kill these two men are you?" Tim asks, voice completely impersonal and business-like and not at all able to disguise the real motive for his question.

Jason has no intention of killing them, is 95% certain that Tim knows this already and 5% pissed off if he doesn't, but he has a reputation and a little fear gets the job done. It's the exact thing that's worked for B all these years.

"They drop all their weapons and let me tie 'em up with a pretty bow for the GCPD, then maybe I'll reconsider," he replies snidely.

Tim looks like he's barely holding back an eye-roll, but the trick works. In just a couple of minutes the men are disarmed and their hands zip-tied. Everyone is safe, Tim is placing a call with Commissioner Gordon to alert the police of the de-escalation, and several employees seem intent on showing Jason their gratitude.

There's a pretty, young intern or something whose blouse is buttoned all the way up like she's afraid of being harassed or maligned for the generous rack she's obviously sporting underneath so Jason makes a note to check on any outstanding sexual harassment charges against people she may be working with just in case. And then there are some older women shamelessly drooling over his physique and speculating on his face under the hood. All the while Jason is trying to back away to make an exit before the GCPD actually arrive.

This is why Bats work at night and in the shadows. This kind of open fawning is made for supers like Wonder Woman; with her and others it makes complete sense.

Jason is almost completely extricated from his admirers when a hoity-toity of a young man practically prowls right up to him, pushing through the others to do so. His pearly whites are fake, his smile all smarm and his eyes are practically broadcasting that he wouldn't mind climbing Jason like a tree right here in front of everyone. Whoever this guy is, he's sure somebody somewhere has referred to him as an alpha bitch because he just exudes, "If I snap my fingers I get what I want." And right now he clearly wants Jason, is practically looking for the smallest opening.

Too bad for him, although Jason's not sorry at all, Jason doesn't reciprocate even a basal desire for Mr. Hoity-Toity. He's about to get every spoiled kid's rude wake-up call that you can't always get what you want. Besides, if there's one person who can't be wrapped around anyone's little finger, well, it's Jason Todd.

There's a clearing of a throat, one that Jason places even before he looks and sees Tim standing behind the throng watching Mr. Hoity-Toity paw at Jason like a piece of meat. They all turn and look at Tim, barely 19 and barely 5'10" – Tim insists he's not shorter than that – and somehow the only one with any real power in the room. Outside of himself, of course.

"Police and paramedics are on their way. I'd like a chance to speak with our _unexpected hero_." The way he drawls the words sounds laced with an intent made familiar by the older Wayne, but only because they don't know Timothy Jackson Drake at all and don't hear the repeated, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Mr. Hoity-Toity at least reads the room wrong because he looks ready to sink his claws into Jason's leather jacket and only let go with some kind of fight. When he does retreat, it's with an insubordinate huff accompanied by an icy glare at his supposed competition. Jason is really glad that he has the helmet on right now because he doesn't think he could keep a straight face if he tried.

"While I'm sure we could have handled it," Tim starts loudly enough for everyone to hear as they slowly walk away, "thank you so much for helping to defuse the situation. Hopefully your insightful tip will help those men be more careful of who they listen to next time." He lowers his voice. "Now get the hell out of here before you cause any more commotion. Or inappropriate boners," he hisses, jerking his head towards his employees, one in particular.

Jason smirks, a mischievous thought flitting into his head that he can't resist. He lifts Tim's chin and says loud enough for Mr. Hoity-Toity to hear, "Any time at all, beautiful."

Tim's eyes narrow and if they were anywhere else, Jason would either be flat on his ass or at least missing a couple of fingers by now, and he's probably going to pay for it later if he crosses paths with Red Robin, but he decides it's worth it right before he backs out through the shattered window he'd entered from.

* * *

Tim is about ninety-four percent finished with his escape plan, reworking through a few more potential scenarios and their probable outcomes, when he hears gunfire and shouts from somewhere else in the building he's being held ransom in. He contemplates whether it's the police courtesy of coordinates from Oracle, assuming she's found him already, or if something has gone sour between his captors.

The door opens, the bright light of the hall streaming into the room. He blinks against it and sees one of the thugs who's been eyeing him lecherously since his gang managed to get their hands on him. Tim doesn't panic, just accelerates the progress of his escape plan in his head as the man approaches.

"As long as this thing's gone to shit," the guy gives a hint of what might be happening outside of the room, "I'm getting what I want." Tim still doesn't panic, but he gives a good illusion of it since he knows that's the expected response and means to use it in his plan. "And what I want is a pretty little rich boy I can—"

"End that sentence and I end you."

The man straightens and turns with a gun on whoever has interrupted, that whoever standing as a large and menacing silhouette in the doorway. The white eyes of the helmet are the only contrast. Before he can shoot at the apparition, his own gun is shot from his hand.

"Yeah, that's not how this is going to go," Jason replies, tone cold and modulated.

He enters the room and sucker punches the stunned thug, dropping him to the ground. His boot comes down with a crunch on the man's already injured wrist, causing him to scream out. Tim doesn't know what it says about him that he doesn't even wince.

"Maybe I should do the same to the other one," Jason snarls. "Teach you a little lesson about consent." He doesn't, but he kicks the man roughly enough that it knocks the air out of him and sends him unconscious.

"I was handling it," Tim says as Jason constrains the criminal, "but as long as you're here maybe you can save me the trouble of breaking my wrists."

Jason straightens and turns to look at him, and Tim can only guess what his expression really is at the moment. Jason stands there, watching him for long enough that Tim almost shivers. Not from fear. At least, it doesn't feel like fear as he's always known it. But there's a familiar thread there just the same. 

"Didn't look like you were handling it," Jason finally speaks, although it's more of a grunt, as he moves behind Tim. His motions are surprisingly gentle in contrast as he works on cutting Tim free with his knife.

"I was about ninety-seven percent finished with my escape plan when you crashed the party," Tim pushes the point, a little bruised ego that he won't deny.

Jason stops, the hand that had been holding onto one of Tim's wrists to hold them steady becomes less gentle, squeezing just enough that it'll probably bruise. He doesn't even know if Jason is aware that he's doing it, or what's caused the change at all until—

"Were you going to let that bastard—"

"No," Tim defends himself, quickly. Too quickly because Jason makes no movement, as if waiting for the truth. "I mean, not really. I… I hadn't decided."

"Hadn't _decided_?" Jason spits back as he gets back to work.

Tim waits until he's free and standing before he attempts to speak again. Sighing, he says, "Look. You know as well as I do that every plan has to have contingencies and those contingencies have to have contingencies. You have to plan for every probable situation and pick the one that—"

"Yeah, I've heard the spiel," Jason cuts him off, walking past him and right out of the room. Apparently he's not too concerned about anyone else so he must have already dealt with the threat.

Tim eventually follows and soon enough sees that he has, bodies lying unconscious here and there. But none of them are bleeding out.

"It's not the only spiel I'm sick of hearing," Jason must note his confusion, "so you better believe I ain't showin' up to rescue any Bat brat with real bullets."

Tim doesn't hide his surprise. He knows Jason has been far from trigger-happy these days, but against so many assailants he would have been _less_ surprised if Jason had come in with less conscience.

"—they hurt like hell and release a small bit of knock-out gas on contact," Jason is explaining and Tim's brain momentarily stutters, now more surprised at the intricacy of Jason's non-lethal bullets.

He pushes that aside to say, "Thanks, Hood."

Jason stops and turns, head cocked. "You ain't seriously getting sappy over some stupid bullets. If I'd known you'd act like the boy scout about this…"

Tim rolls his eyes. "Not that. For getting here before, well, before." He decides to leave it at that as he walks on, passing Jason this time.

"Yeah, well, thank Oracle." Jason steps into a stride beside him. "She gave me your last known coordinates and it wasn't too hard to figure it out from there. This place has pinged my radar a couple of times in the past. And considering the little stunt from a couple days ago, it fit with what I've managed to dig up so far."

Tim sees Jason shrug from his peripheral. He knows this is as good as "you're welcome" as it'll get, and as close to an admission of familial concern as Jason will ever allow. It's not much, but Tim understands the reasons and accepts it for what it is.

"Speaking of O," Jason adds, "she says GCPD will be here in 5 so that's my cue. You can tell them whatever the fuck you want about how Tim Drake managed to get out of this shit, but I'm not sticking around to make any statements." He shakes his head.

Tim snorts. "Maybe I'll say it was Superman this time," he suggests. "Word gets out it was you, Mr. HT," Tim refers to him by the nickname Jason had used when they laughed about it later – well, later as in after Tim inflicted bodily pain for making the situation worse, "will probably poison my coffee."

If the guy wasn't a nepotism case, Tim would have fired him since the incident. He was bad enough before all of the posturing.

"If he does, I'll show up at the funeral as Hood so you can land the last blow, how's that sound?" Jason asks, a laugh in his voice. The question is entirely rhetorical and he doesn't stick around for Tim to give an answer.

"Avenge me, Jay!" Tim shouts after him, melodramatic.

When he's alone, the not-quite-fear-thing returns. This time he shivers.

* * *

Jason wonders if Tim knows he has surveillance rigged to show him visitors before they arrive, because he's been standing outside of his door for a solid five or six minutes just staring at it. By now he should have at least knocked if he was going forego letting himself in - it's one of the safe houses Jason has shared the location of with the rest of the Bats.

Another minute passes and Jason's tired of waiting. He's not sure he wants to know why Tim's acting weird all of a sudden, since there's a good chance it has something to do with what Jason has dubbed National Target Tim Drake Week. 

Jason opens the door, saying, "You just gonna keep standing outside my door like a creepy ass--" Jason stops short as his eyes really focus on Tim. He couldn't see it on the camera because of the angle, but the sleeve of his right arm is soaked through with blood, he has a split lip and the rest of him is disheveled with signs of a fight. "Shit, what happened to you this time?"

Whatever happened, it wasn't on any news alert or Jason would have known. The way the last three days have gone, he's gotten in the habit of checking. Jason steps aside so Time can enter the small apartment.

"Honestly," he says, "I'm not even sure. Either a failed nabbing or a failed mugging. They can explain themselves to GCPD when they're collected."

Jason looks at his arm again, not liking the amount of blood there. "Last time I checked, dipshit, it's only a failure if they don't almost kill you."

Jason realizes he's being a little dramatic, but the whole damn Bat clan is dramatic so whatever. And sometimes that's the only way to get through to the ones, like Tim, who brush everything off like it's no big deal.

_Oh, I'm falling to my death? _He silently mocks as he goes to get the medical kit._ It's cool. Whatever. Self-preservation? What's that?_

"At least I came to you this time," Tim says once Jason has returned to patch him up.

Jason snorts. "Thanks, but how about you stop wearing a neon sign around your neck that says: My name is Tim Drake. I'm a CEO. I'm wealthy. My equally wealthy daddy is out of town. Did I mention I look like sin incarnate?" 

He doesn't make eye contact as he says it, instead works on getting the rest of Tim's sleeve cut open so he can get a better look at what he's dealing with. When he sees the gash, he can't help but mutter, "Jesus. Is anyone looking into this to make sure it's really not some bigger play?"

"It's probably just Karma," Tim says with a hitch of his shoulder, before hissing out a breath.

"Then don't move it until I'm done, moron," Jason tells him. But Karma? Really? "And that's shitty logic even for you, baby bird. What could you have done in your life that would even remotely warrant the universe taking the piss on you like it is right now, huh?"

"That's… You know that's not how Karma actually works, right?" Tim deflects.

Jason is a little less gentle in lieu of an answer. Until Tim winces and he regrets it.

He shakes his head and sighs. "I'm going to tell Alfred to lock your ass up until the whole of Gotham gets bored of trying to nab you."

"Or kill me," Tim adds, as if that's helpful at all. Jason glares at him to let him know that it really isn't. "I'm just saying. Some people want me dead. That's why I don't think it's all interconnected. Maybe some of it. The rest just might be a coincidence, or maybe copycats. The theory that it's because Bruce is away is pretty solid too."

"Whatever," Jason doesn't argue, "the point is it's not safe out there for people named Tim Drake-Wayne so maybe you should lay low or something."

"Statistically, this can't go on much longer," Tim replies.

Last time Jason checked, statistically they should all be dead – or _still _dead – so he's not sure that's a very solid reason for being flippant. He keeps that to himself though and focuses on finishing his patch-job on Timmy.

After that he's going to see if he can bribe him into sticking around where he can keep an eye on him.

* * *

"You know," Barbara says as she picks through her carton of Chinese take-out, "I always assumed that Kon was your personal Superman."

Tim lifts an eyebrow. Beside him Stephanie snorts and across from him Dick practically chokes on his own bite of food.

"Oh come on," Barbara continues, glancing at Dick for some kind of support, "you know at least half of the Titans, not to mention the League, were placing bets on who would end up with Kon, and Tim was high on that list."

Dick looks like he'd rather have choked on his kung-pao chicken than to corroborate her statement.

Tim spares him by replying, "What I know and what I choose to acknowledge are two entirely separate categories of information. They don't always overlap. I also fail to see the point of this topic."

"You? Fail to see?" Barbara lifts her own eyebrow. "And Bruce is gushing with fatherly warmth," she says in analogy. "For some reason you've spent half of this month in more scrapes than Lois Lane."

"That is wildly unfair to Ms. Lane," Tim counters. "She rarely actually _needs _Clark. Have you been in a hostage situation with her? She's formidable and there's a reason she's a Pulitzer-winning investigative journalist."

"You're cute if you think I'm downplaying how much Lo can kick everybody's ass," Barbara replies. "Doesn't refute the fact that she's often a target for one reason or another. Also doesn't refute the fact that whenever possible Clark drops everything to rush to her rescue."

"If anything, Superman is the one who doesn't give her enough credit," Steph comments.

"Oh, believe me, they've had that argument before," Dick says with a nod.

"_So_, facts boy, here are the facts," Babs continues. "We currently have a sign in the Cave that says, 'It's been X days since a Tim Drake incident.'"

"Courtesy of me," Steph chimes in with a cheesing grin at him. "It's currently at 4 days. Good work, Tim."

"Like I told Jason," Tim shrugs, "statistically, at some point this was bound to blow over."

"Mhm," Barbara sounds just as unconvinced as Jason had been, "and which category does Jason fall into?"

Tim feels like he's just taken a hit from a Batarang to the head. He blinks at Babs, her look is arch, and then looks at Steph to see her hiding a conspiratorial smirk behind a bite of food. He looks at Dick and is relieved to see that, at the very least, he isn't connecting the dots.

"I fail to see the correlation," Dick expresses his confusion, an open invitation for Barbara to elaborate, and Tim braces himself.

"Almost every single one of Tim's incidents have something in common," she says, leading Dick to the conclusion instead of stating it outright. It takes a few seconds, but then Dick sputters as if in horror. "I've had more contact with Jason in the past couple of weeks than I've had in the last 6 months."

Tim stubbornly bites back any fluster her implication causes and snaps, "Then stop contacting him. Problem solved for both of us."

For some reason Barbara goes perfectly still and silent. It's more than just a little scary. Beside her Dick scoots away just enough to be conspicuous.

"That…" Tim swallows hard. "That came out harsher than I wanted. I'm sorry," he rushes to apologize. "I know you're just trying to protect me. And, I guess when I think about it, he's the Bat that makes the most sense to put on Tim Drake Incident duty. No job, less concern for him being seen in daylight, and—"

"That _idiot_," Babs barks out without warning, voice soft but no less scary. Tim can admit he flinches and Dick moves a few more inches away. "I'm going to smack him upside his head the next time I see him."

"I'm going to kick him in the balls," Steph chimes in. Turning her head to look at Tim curiously she adds, "You good with that or are you, like, an exclusive bottom? Because I can take out something less performative for old times' sake."

"_WHAT THE FUCK!?_" Dick jumps up from his seat and looks around like _he's _the one being thrown to the sharks here with no means of escape.

Tim closes his eyes, sighs, contemplates which of his safe houses is still unknown so he can disappear for a while, and then asks, "What did the idiot do?"

"I don't contact Jason," Barbara says. Tim pops open his eyes, his detective skills failing to have figured this one out. "_**He** __contacts _**_me_**."

* * *

Jason pulls off his helmet and holds it at his hip so that Tim can see his eyes narrowed in a glare behind his domino.

And Tim. The little punk. He has the audacity to sit there with some half-smile-smirk-thing going on with his perfectly-curved lips and one of his eyes sparkling like the other isn't blackened and half-closed. Has the audacity to just look back at him like he's not even sorry for being strapped to another damn chair, hair a mess and bougie suit ripped – it's like flushing money down a crapper at this rate.

Has the audacity to say, "I was wondering when you'd show up. Thought maybe you'd found a different CEO to save on the regular."

Jason has half a mind to just leave him there for GCPD. Let the little shit use that smartass mouth of his to explain how everyone else is neutralized but he's still tied to a chair. It would serve him right for the hell this latest incident had put him through mentally. He really almost _didn't_ show up, his conversation with Dick still too fresh in his mind.

"Just one day." Jason ignores that half of his mind and stalks forward to look down at him. "Just one day I'd like to wake up to something other than your pasty face all over the news. When I said anytime at all, this ain't what I meant."

"Technically it's been six days since the last incident," Tim corrects. "Steph has a counter."

Jason moves behind him to cut him free, again, before he really does take advantage of the smartass being tied up – not like that, he curses the more perverse thought that follows because he's not that guy and never wants to be.

"Even the little demon getting kidnapped would be a nice change of pace," Jason grumbles back, trying to push the conversation somewhere else.

"Three things."

Jason gives a derisive snort. "Only three?" Why nobody ever gags him is beyond explanation.

"Don't make me make you regret untying me," Tim warns as he stands to his feet.

_Too late_, Jason's brain supplies unhelpfully when Tim stretches and then loses what's left of his disheveled tie.

"Three things," he repeats. "1. If it were Damian, Dick would get there before you even had a chance."

It's true, but Tim didn't have to put it into words like that. Like it's not even a big deal when they both know it is.

"2. If it were Damian, you wouldn't bother."

True. Probably. Maybe depending on the day or his mood or ease of access—

Tim wheels around on him and looks him straight in the face, only the chair between them. "3. No one is forcing you to come rushing to _my _rescue either."

Jason blinks. Swallows. Blinks again. That's also true. Technically. It's a major reason for the mental hell. It seems everyone has figured it out.

"And," Jason grasps for one of his steadiest justifications, "you're just gonna stand there and be okay with the fact that Dickiebird'll break curfew for Damian and not you?"

Because while they're on the subject, Jason's not okay with it. Maybe he tried to kill his Replacement, but at least he's never treated him like he's expendable all because of some damn Rules. Even if he knows that's not entirely fair. Knows all too well how much Dick actually cares for Tim too.

"I— That's beside the point." Tim crosses his arms, like he's dealing with one of his employees. Too bad it doesn't work on Jason. Not much, anyway. "The point is, I'm not Lois Lane."

Jason hesitates. "Okay."

Tim leans in over the chair, looking up at him. "And you're not Superman," he says with a slow, patronizing shake of his head.

"No shit," Jason derides, or tries to, but it comes out a little subdued.

"And this," Tim is suddenly half on the chair and pulling Jason closer by his jacket – when did he even grab hold of it? – with an intent that certainly has to be some kind of trap, "is not a thank you kiss."

Jason's hindbrain says he's got about 1.5 seconds to escape whatever attack Tim has in store for him. But the way Tim is looking at him, he would only have to snap his fingers and—


	2. but I'm scared, cause love don't play fair

"Look, kid, you don't do this for us and all the others here get blasted to smithereens. You don't want that now, do ya?"

There's a crashing sound like glass and before Tim can focus his eyes, he hears a familiar voice, modulated and unnerving. "If you so much as harm a single hair on his pretty head."

Tim blinks and sees that he's not just imagining things. Jason, or rather Red Hood, is standing with both of his pistols drawn. Even though it's 2 in the afternoon. Bats don't come out in the day unless it's absolutely necessary. And a typical hostage situation like this one doesn't qualify. GCPD is handling it and Tim already has a plan in place and an alibi to cover it when people like Vicki Vale come knocking.

Besides, these two men are amateurs at best. They got in by sheer luck and are even luckier that Tim's the only one in the room without any concern for his own mortality.

"In case you missed the point," Jason growls again, "_hands off_." 

Proving Tim's earlier point, one of the hands holding him lets go. The other hand tightens around his collar while the man keeps his eyes fixed on Jason in spite of the threat. Maybe he's less of an amateur.

"Why? You want him for yourself?"

_Once upon a time, yeah_, Tim thinks. Back when things weren't so confusing.

"—the plight of the folks who can't get ahead because of rich assholes like these people," the guy is still saying. 

Tim won't take that presumption lying down. Even if it's generally true, and has been a problem even for WE, he's hellbent on changing that. "These rich assholes," he interjects, "were in the middle of discussing a proposal to cut overhead salaries, _again_, so that we can give a quarterly raise to our employees."

"But the boss said—"

Jason interrupts, coming to the same conclusion Tim does with just those couple of words. "What he needed to in order to get a couple of radicalized amateurs to put a stop to something that might cut into his own profit." Jason has their attention. "If I had to guess, your boss makes a pretty penny off of lesser-paid WE employees. If you get out of here alive, give him a message for me: the Red Hood will be doing some digging."

The other man lets go and their inexperience gets the better of them. They're looking for a way to escape and Tim likes the idea of desperate amateurs scared for their lives less than whatever they'd had planned to do to him.

"You're not really going to kill these two men are you?" Tim asks. He puts on an air of fake concern, a professional voice as if he's trying to keep the peace.

In a way he is. Because even if Jason is bluffing, and he's almost certain in this case that he is, the idiot doesn't seem to realize he's about to make the situation worse.

"They drop all their weapons and let me tie 'em up with a pretty bow for the GCPD, then maybe I'll reconsider," Jason replies, enough of a sneer in his voice that Tim rethinks just how unaware Jason was of the new threat at hand.

The trick works, thankfully, and Jason manages to get the men disarmed and tied up. Tim watches on while he makes a call straight to Jim Gordon's cell.

"Timothy, are you okay?" Gordon says in lieu of a salutation.

"Yeah, we're good up here. Got a little outside help from Red Hood." He glances at Jason and finds him surrounded by all of the women in the room as he attempts to back away. He gives a soft snort.

"I thought I saw something go swinging through here," Gordon says. "Our men are confident we've found all of their accomplices and we've got bomb squad on their way up to handle the device on the door."

Tim frowns when he glances over again to see how Jason is faring and finds him receiving attention from someone new and far more aggressive than any of the others. And Jason, he's stopped moving. He's not trying to escape. His body language is tense, but Tim honestly can't tell if Jason is in momentary fight-or-flight stage or if he's trying to keep things professional in spite of the very obvious invitation.

"Uh-huh," Tim says absently to Gordon, "got it. Gotta go, Jim."

Tim crosses the room, tries to assess the situation now that he's closer, and decides either way it's inappropriate. So he clears his throat and waits for everyone to defer to his pointless title.

"Police and paramedics are on their way," he tells them. "I'd like a chance to speak with our _unexpected hero_." He knows Jason understands the point of the emphasis.

Unlike Jason, his admirer immediately sizes Tim up. He reacts to Tim like he's just encroached on his territory and come looking to steal his fresh kill. When he finally stalks away, it's with a warning that this isn't over.

Tim just holds his icy gaze with a raised eyebrow. _Trust me, you couldn't handle him_, he doesn't say.

He then turns to Jason and says, for show, "While I'm sure we could have handled it thank you so much for helping to defuse the situation. Hopefully your insightful tip will help those men be more careful of who they listen to next time." Also, Jason isn't the only one who's going to do some digging. He then lowers his voice. "Now get the hell out of here before you cause any more commotion." Tim jerks his head towards the others and adds, "Or inappropriate boners."

Jason cocks his head just a fraction of an inch and it's the only warning Tim gets before a gloved hand is lifting his chin as Jason declares, "Any time at all, beautiful."

Tim's eyes narrow, wondering at the purpose of his remark and barely restraining his instinct to call him out on it. Jason backs away quickly and out through the window he shattered getting into the room. Tim has a hunch and it's confirmed when he sees the previous icy gaze has turned into an outright stink-eye.

Whatever message Jason was trying to send, Red Robin has plans to visit Crime Alley later and remind him that he can't use Tim Drake that easily and get away with it.

* * *

"Looks like your hunch was right," Oracle says, pulling up feed of the building on the HUD of Jason's helmet. "Glad you called me on this one. I'm sending an anonymous tip to GCPD right now. ETA—"

"Not fast enough," Jason decides and heads for the main entrance.

"Hood, don't be stupid," Oracle argues. "There's only one of you and at least 30 of them from what I've gathered so far."

"Double it and I might actually break a sweat," Jason scoffs.

"You go in like this and they might just accelerate their time table with Tim."

Jason pauses, considers the odds, and then goes with his gut. He kicks down the door and begins his assault on the compound.

"Isolated heat signature a few stories up," Oracle says at some point during the fight. "Staircase in the northeast corner, looks like any guards on post have abandoned ship to come find you." The feed appears in front of his eyes.

"What was that about an accelerated time table?"

"Don't get cocky, Hood," Oracle snaps back. "A heat signature doesn’t tell us if he's okay. It just tells us his body is still warm."

Jason reacts to that with a more aggressive take down of his remaining assailants. But she's right. And he understands why she's blunt about it.

"I'm headed up now," he says, watching his HUD for moving heat signatures. There are a few still coming his way, but then he sees one heading up as well. Heading towards— "Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit."

Jason kicks his ass into gear and shoots with less regard for whether or not it'll cause significant harm. By time he reaches the hall Tim is on, the other body in the room has been hovering close enough for the two signatures to merge for longer than Jason likes.

"And what I want," he hears as he approaches the room, "is a pretty little rich boy I can—"

"End that sentence and I end you," Jason growls, whipping out the pistol that has a real bullet in it for contingency purposes.

He wants to end the creep, doesn't think he deserves to live considering what he was about to do, but that would fuck everything up again in a way he's not in any mood to deal with. So instead he aims for the other man's hand when he whips around on him.

"Yeah, that's not how this is going to go," Jason adds, deciding he'll have to find another way to deal with him.

He uses the guy's stunned state to knock him to the ground. He crushes his already injured wrist with his boot, and gets a twisted pleasure from the anguished scream that follows. This guy had his hands on Tim so he deserves what he's getting. Deserves more.

"Maybe I should do the same to the other one," Jason voices that thought aloud. "Teach you a little lesson about consent."

He almost crosses the line, but something pulls him back before he does. Instead, he gives the man a rough kick to his side, rendering him unconscious.

He constrains the criminal while behind him Tim says, "I was handling it, but as long as you're here maybe you can save me the trouble of breaking my wrists."

Jason's muscles go tense. He stands up straight and turns to look at Tim. Tim, who was moments away from… And it was maybe his own doing, like Oracle had said. What if he'd gotten there a few minutes later? What if he'd been too late, just like B had been too late—

Jason shakes off the thought, reminds himself that what ifs just complicate matters. He forces himself to say something as he moves to cut Tim free. "Didn't look like you were handling it."

"I was about ninety-seven percent finished with my escape plan when you crashed the party," Tim retorts.

Jason freezes again. If he was that far along, where did the creep factor in? How had Tim been planning on getting out of that one? Something akin to bile tickles the back of his throat and he barks out, "Were you going to let that bastard—"

"No," Tim doesn't let him finish, but Jason doesn't believe him. Tim gets the point and tries again. "I mean, not really. I… I hadn't decided."

Jason lets out a sharp breath and snaps back, "Hadn't _decided_?" As in Tim definitely considered it, was weighing it in his mind as a viable means to an end.

Tim doesn't respond any further while Jason finishes getting him free.

"I'm only guessing from bits and pieces here," Oracle doesn't show the same respect, "but Tim was just doing what we all have to."

"Look," Tim starts with a sigh, once he's standing, "you know as well as I do that every plan has to have contingencies and those contingencies have to have contingencies. You have to plan for every probable situation and pick the one that

Jason doesn't want to stand there and listen to Tim justify letting that creep potentially molest him, regardless of necessity, so he walks out of the room with a, "Yeah, I've heard the spiel" before Tim can finish.

It takes Tim a few moments to catch up. As they walk in silence, Tim starts to scrutinize the bodies on the floor.

"It's not the only spiel I'm sick of hearing," Jason enlightens him, "so you better believe I ain't showin' up to rescue any Bat brat with real bullets." He decides not to mention the real bullet he'd just shot the creep's hand with and focuses on explaining the others he'd used, Oracle making little hums as she takes notes on her end no doubt.

When he finishes, for some reason Tim says, sounding sort of gushy, "Thanks, Hood."

Jason stops in his tracks. He knows Tim follows the Rule. Believes in the necessity of the Rule, even if his own belief _in _the rule is a little more dubious. But he hadn't been expecting that kind of reaction. So he turns and says as much. "You ain't seriously getting sappy over some stupid bullets. If I'd known you'd act like the boy scout about this…"

Tim rolls his eyes, a good indicator that Jason had misunderstood him even before he confirms it. "Not that. For getting here before…" He seems to think twice about continuing and settles with a lame, "well, before." Then he walks on, passing Jason as he does.

Jason watches him for a moment, not sure what to think. They aren't a really emotive family-unit-whatever-thing, so he knows Tim wouldn't even offer a word of gratitude if he wasn't genuinely grateful. It smooths Jason's ruffled feathers and reminds him to be glad that none of Tim's contingencies were necessary.

Of course, he's not going to admit any of that, so he just says, "Yeah, well, thank Oracle. She gave me your last known coordinates and it wasn't too hard to figure it out from there. This place has pinged my radar a couple of times in the past. And considering the little stunt from a couple days ago, it fit with what I've managed to dig up so far." He finishes with a shrug.

"Not that I don't appreciate the credit where it's due," Oracle says, "but do you have to be such a hard ass? You made a good call, RH. Both when you decided to call me and when you decided to go in alone. It's not going to kill you to accept somebody's acknowledgment." When he doesn't reply she adds, "GCPD are about 5 minutes out. Not their quickest response time to a tip."

"Speaking of O," Jason continues his conversation with Tim, "she says GCPD will be here in 5 so that's my cue." He stops and looks around at the bodies. "You can tell them whatever the fuck you want about how Tim Drake managed to get out of this shit, but I'm not sticking around to make any statements." He shakes his head.

Tim snorts. "Maybe I'll say it was Superman this time. Word gets out it was you, Mr. HT, will probably poison my coffee."

Jason smiles. He can still see the look on Mr. HT's face when he left Wayne Towers. And he can still feel the bruise from Tim's response after the fact. Still worth it.

"If he does," Jason says, "I'll show up at the funeral as Hood so you can land the last blow, how's that sound?"

Jason doesn't stick around for an answer, making a quick exit. But he hears Tim shout a melodramatic, "Avenge me, Jay!"

He smiles a little bit wider.

* * *

Tim sighs. Of all of the safe houses, why did this one have to be the closest? He knows it's the one Jason has been residing in the most lately. He knows it's unlikely that he's only recently relocated to another one; barring certain circumstances he's got at least another three weeks before he changes his address if his pattern holds. He knows it's unlikely that when he opens the door, Jason won't be there.

The door opens for him, confirming his suspicion. "You just gonna keep standing outside my door like a creepy ass—" Jason starts, but cuts himself off. He narrows his eyes. "Shit, what happened to you this time?"

Jason stands aside in invitation and Tim enters the small apartment. "Honestly," he says, "I'm not even sure. Either a failed nabbing or a failed mugging. They can explain themselves to GCPD when they're collected."

Jason zeroes in on his arm. "Last time I checked, dipshit, it's only a failure if they don't almost kill you."

Jason has a tendency to be a little dramatic, but Tim doesn't feel like pointing this out to him at the moment. Instead he sits down and waits for Jason to come back with the first aid kit Tim knows he's going to get.

"At least I came to you this time," Tim offers lightly when Jason is sitting in front of him on the coffee table.

Jason snorts. "Thanks, but how about you stop wearing a neon sign around your neck that says: My name is Tim Drake. I'm a CEO. I'm wealthy. My equally wealthy daddy is out of town. Did I mention I look like sin incarnate?"

Tim frowns. He's aware that people have certain thoughts about his looks. He's aware that these thoughts are no secret. He just hates it when the family teases him about it. Fair enough that they all tease each other about this kind of thing and it doesn't mean anything. But…it doesn't mean anything.

"Jesus," Jason shakes his head, "is anyone looking into this to make sure it's not some bigger play?"

"It's probably just Karma," Tim deflects with a hitch of his shoulder. He regrets the action.

"Then don't move it until I'm done, moron," Jason chastises. "And that's shitty logic even for you, baby bird. What could you have done in your life that would even remotely warrant the universe taking the piss on you like it is right now, huh?"

"That's…" Tim blinks. Was that a roundabout compliment? Or Jason showing his jealousy again? "You know that's not how Karma actually works, right?" Tim deflects again.

Jason's hands are suddenly a little less gentle. Tim winces and doesn't miss the way it earns a look of regret from Jason.

He shakes his head and sighs before saying, "I'm going to tell Alfred to lock your ass up until the whole of Gotham gets bored of trying to nab you."

"Or kill me," Tim adds, before his brain can think of anything better to reply with. Jason levels him with a steady glare. "I'm just saying," Tim rolls with it, "some people want me dead. That's why I don't think it's all interconnected. Maybe some of it. The rest just might be a coincidence, or maybe copycats. The theory that it's because Bruce is away is pretty solid too."

"Whatever," Jason says, "the point is it's not safe out there for people named Timothy Drake-Wayne so maybe you should lay low or something."

Tim considers the advice. Jason isn't the first one to suggest it, but it's the first time Tim lets himself truly consider the option. "Statistically," he thinks aloud, "this can't go on much longer."

It's clear that Jason doesn't agree, but he doesn't argue. He just finishes patching him up and then bribes him with coffee and pizza into staying put with him until patrol. Something about a patched up Tim Drake being too much of a temptation.

* * *

Jason steps into his current residence and almost turns back around to go find another one.

"We need to talk," Dick says before he can.

Jason rolls his eyes as he pulls off his helmet. "I don't know about you, but after patrol I actually go to sleep, so how about you try me again in about 12 hours."

He rubs his hand through his hair before pulling off his domino too. Dick still hasn't budged. He comes around to the couch and flops down on it with a sigh. Closing his eyes he says, "Alright. Let's get whatever this is over with. Since it clearly can't wait."

There's a long moment of silence and if it weren't for the heightened senses he's honed over the years, he would almost think Dick had gone. He opens his mouth to say something unpleasant when—

"Do you want to fuck our little brother?"

Jason's eyes pop open. And he slowly sits up straight. Dick is staring a hole in the floor. The question had been such a strangled whisper, Jason almost wonders if he'd imagined it. Maybe he got concussed and he's hallucinating.

Dick glances up and apparently reads the confusion plain on his face because he says, louder, "_Don't _make me repeat it. Just answer the question."

Jason blinks. He contemplates if he still has a chance of making it out and to another safe house before Dick can stop him.

"That's the kind of question best left for never," Jason states. "And it certainly isn't the kind of question you sneak into a guy's place to ask at 4 in the morning, Dickface."

"Stop stalling and answer it," Dick barks, taking a threatening step forward.

"No," Jason says. "The answer is no." Then, for reasons unknown, he confesses, "I want to fuck Tim."

Dick, who'd been halfway through deflating like a balloon, goes tense again. "Who do you think I meant?" He shouts, sounding more horror-stricken than before.

Jason groans. "I know exactly who you meant. He's just not my brother. Thought I'd set the record straight."

"But he is—"

"He isn't," Jason counters. "Brother-in-arms, yeah, sure. That's accurate enough. But I've never seen Tim as anything more so stop making it weirder than it is." He levels Dick with an incredulous look. "Hell, if anyone here should feel weird, it's me. You and Babs were both like older siblings to me and that didn't stop you from messing around the minute you got the chance."

"That's different," Dick immediately deflects.

Jason sighs. "Why? Because she's a female?"

Predictably, Dick protests even more adamantly, "No, because she's not—"

"Not really family," Jason interrupts, laying back and closing his eyes again. "Bingo. You never saw Barbara as your actual sister. Same deal here. You can leave now."

"What?" Dick splutters. "This conversation isn't over."

Jason doesn't bother opening his eyes or responding in any way whatsoever. He can wait Dickiebird out however long it takes.

Eventually the couch sinks a little more with Dick's weight. It's a little bit longer before he actually speaks again. "Fine. You don't see Tim as a brother. But I do."

"Noted."

"Shut up. I see _you _as a brother too."

"Did you miss the part where I said it was the same deal for me?"

"Did you miss the part where I said shut up?"

Jason opens his eyes and turns his head to glare at Dick. Of course, Dick is smirking, like this has turned into nothing more than playful banter between brothers and not a serious, intrusive, completely unsolicited discussion about Jason's purely hypothetical love life.

Jason rolls his eyes and looks back at the ceiling. "What else do you want me to say, Dick?"

Dick sighs. "I don't know. I never really counted on having this conversation in the first place."

"That makes two of us." A thought occurs to him then, one that makes him uneasy. "How did you figure it out anyway?"

"How do any of us ever figure out anything these days?"

"Barbara," Jason guesses.

"Barbara."

They sit in silence for a few minutes. It's…less uncomfortable than Jason would have expected it to be. Maybe that's why he says, "For the record, it's more than just that."

* * *

_Congratulations, Jay_, Tim thinks as he listens to his recent nabbers openly discuss their plans, _you were right_.

And of course, this _would _be the one time when it seems Jason doesn't feel like crashing the party. Even Babs has to be wrong sometimes.

Of course, that's the moment he hears gunfire. It's almost like Barbara willed Jason into existence to say, "Oh yeah?"

It takes a couple of moments, but soon Red Hood is in his line of sight, taking out the guys nearest to him. Tim could probably manage to get free during the distraction, but he wants to see how it plays out this time. That and he likes watching Jason fight. He's all raw and brash power in a way that the other Bats aren't. And Jason seems especially Done™ today, which always lends a little more ferocity to his fighting style.

Once Jason is done he stands where he is for a long moment, back turned to Tim. The line of his back is tense and he's breathing just a little bit heavier from the exertion, but not as much as a normal person would.

Finally, Jason turns and looks at him. Then he does something surprising. He takes off his helmet and holds it at his hip. Tim can see some of his expression for once, and the way Jason is trying to glare at him he thinks that might be the point of the gesture.

And Tim doesn't care. Jason showed up. Again. He's here to rescue him. Their relationship has done a complete 180 somewhere along the line and Jason has decided to do what he can to keep Tim alive. _Without prompting_, Barbara had said.

Tim's stupid stomach does a flip and his lips quirk up to one side. Even if Jason doesn't care the way he wants him to care, he still _cares_.

"I was wondering when you'd show up." Tim breaks the silence. "Thought maybe you'd found a different CEO to save on the regular."

The muscles in Jason's face twitch, like he's struggling what to do with Tim's comment. Tim wonders what that means.

"Just one day," Jason grumbles. He moves behind the chair in what almost feels like a ritual now. Not that Tim wants to make it one any more than Jason seems to. "Just one day I'd like to wake up to something other than your pasty face all over the news," he continues to complain. "When I said anytime at all, this ain't what I meant."

Tim can't help but point out, "Technically it's been six days since the last incident. Steph has a counter."

And hopefully now that he knows that this has all been one long rouse to set him up for the big sting, there won't be any further need for said counter.

"Even the little demon getting kidnapped would be a nice change of pace," Jason remarks.

Tim wants to laugh, but there's something potentially more important here that they're dancing around. Something Tim is afraid to believe might be the case, but something he needs to investigate if he wants to get any sleep – and apparently he doesn't get enough as it is if you ask everyone else.

"Three things," he says, deciding to take Barbara's leading approach.

Of course, leading Jason anywhere is like leading a mule. He immediately interjects with a snort, "Only three?"

Tim stands to his feet, free again, and banters back, "Don't make me make you regret untying me."

He shakes his head and begins stretching out his muscles. He was tied up a little longer than usual. He also decides to undo his messed up tie and throw it away. It's been bugging him this whole time.

"Three things," Tim starts again, not turning yet, not ready to face him. "1. If it were Damian, Dick would get there before you even had a chance." It still stings, but maybe it's not any different between Jason and Damian so he says, "2. If it were Damian, you wouldn't bother."

Tim takes a breath, steels himself and turns around to look at Jason. The chair is the only thing between them. It's both too close and not close enough.

"3. No one is forcing you to come to _my _rescue either."

The statement hangs between them. The confession that Tim knows Jason's secret. This is the moment of truth.

Tim focuses his eyes on Jason with a laser focus, trying to read every twitch, looking for any tell. He thinks Jason blinks behind the domino. He swallows slowly. Is that another blink? Jason's brain has stalled and Tim has never felt more hopeful about, well, anything. And he can think about how sad and pathetic that is at a later time.

"And you're just gonna stand there and be okay with the fact that Dickiebird'll break curfew for Damian and not you?"

Now Tim blinks. That's not exactly the response he'd been expecting, but it isn't a denial either. In fact, it sounds like an excuse. Like an excuse that Jason is trying to convince himself of just as much as Tim.

"I— That's beside the point," Tim says, crossing his arms. It's a power stance. He's not going to let Jason distract him. Not when there's a chance. "The point is, I'm not Lois Lane."

"Okay." Jason sounds hesitant.

Tim leans in closer, over the chair, and shakes his head slowly. "And you're not Superman."

"No shit," Jason says, but it's too soft, too distracted, too much of a clue telling Tim to discover what it's pointing to.

Tim moves half onto the chair and cautiously takes hold of Jason's jacket. He doesn't react, doesn't push him away.

"And this," Tim pulls him closer, "is not a thank you kiss."

Tim moves slowly, broadcasts his intent, gives Jason a chance to pull back, only gives the barest press of his lips against Jason's, too aware that Jason is volatile and skittish and unpredictable and—

Kissing back!

One of Jason's hands slides into his hair. His helmet hits the floor with a clatter and the other hand finds the small of Tim's back, pulling him closer against the chair that's between them. Changing the angle so he can kiss Tim better, devour him like he's starving. It's raw and powerful just like Jason and Tim is already addicted.

Tim is breathless when they break apart, partly because it takes them several tries before they break the kiss for more than a few seconds. Their lips reconnect before they can do anything else, both of them unwilling to stop already now that they've started.

"Should have done that sooner," Tim decides, even as he thinks about how he wants to do it again. And again. And then some.

"Didn't know you wanted to, baby bird," Jason says.

"Didn't know _you _wanted to," Tim echoes.

"That's…" Jason looks down, runs a hand through his hair almost sheepishly. "Yeah, that's fair."

Tim wonders briefly if Jason even knew it himself. Before he can second guess what that might mean if it's true, Jason looks back up, fixing him with a long gaze. Tim wishes he could see behind the domino because something about Jason's expression sends a shiver down his spine.

Before he knows what's happening, Jason has his helmet back on and is sweeping Tim off the chair.

"Jay, what the hell?" Tim asks with a laugh as Jason carries him across the warehouse.

"Oracle, this is Hood. Threats neutralized. I've got Tim. And I'm going to be keeping Tim until the rest of the Bats start pulling their weight around here."

Tim's eyes widen. "What? Are _you _abducting me now?"

"Only way. Not safe out there, Tim," Jason replies, matter-of-fact. "I'm not letting you out of my sight again until it is."

Tim laughs some more and struggles to get out of Jason's hold, not because he wants to, but just because dignity demands that he should at least put up some kind of protest.

"Hmm-mm. O agrees with me. So I'm taking you somewhere and bunkering down, baby bird."

Tim huffs, and wills his body not to react to the darker promise behind Jason's words. "Yeah, well, O also agrees with Batgirl that she should give you a good kick in the balls."

"Another good reason to bunker down," Jason says, unfazed.

And Tim. Tim can't really disagree.


End file.
